


bluebird, i know your beat

by haloud



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Michael Gets Topped, PWP
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-07
Updated: 2020-04-07
Packaged: 2021-03-01 22:53:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,133
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23524915
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haloud/pseuds/haloud
Summary: One of the first things Jenna learned when she moved to Roswell was that it never lacked for time that needed filling. She’s rapidly learning it also has an abundance of men all ready and eager to follow orders.And of course, out of all of them, she’d find the one that did it the prettiest in the unlikeliest of places.
Relationships: Jenna Cameron/Michael Guerin
Comments: 10
Kudos: 57





	bluebird, i know your beat

**Author's Note:**

> when in doubt, hozier lyric. title comes from No Plan

One of the first things Jenna learned when she moved to Roswell was that it never lacked for time that needed filling. She’s rapidly learning it also has an abundance of men all ready and eager to follow orders.

And of course, out of all of them, she’d find the one that did it the prettiest in the unlikeliest of places.

Guerin hits the ground on his knees, grinning like the devil himself and twice as clever. His hands go straight to the tops of his thighs, his spine goes straight, and he looks up at her through long, golden lashes with eyes that are somehow soft and pliable despite all the…everything else about him. It’s clear that no one trained him up to be like this, and for a moment the thought crosses Jenna’s mind that with a little more time and focus maybe she could.

Yeah. Whatever. What-ifs have gotten her so far in life already, huh?

Guerin’s tongue peeks out of the corner of his mouth as she looks down at him, wets his bottom lip, and she doesn’t have to ask what he wants or tell him how to give it to her. It’s impossible to remember the various reasons this is probably a bad idea when he’s looking like that, so she rakes her fingers through his soft, curly hair to reward him for that gift. His eyes slip shut and he sighs, his lips part and they’re already redder than they have any right to be, so she tugs his head back to tip his face up and get a better look. She scratches his scalp lightly and he leans into it like a cat.

When his eyes fall back open there’s an unfocused glimmer to them, and Jenna can’t help but give him a grin of her own to see it, the surfacing of this Guerin that’s mellow and sweet when generally he pisses her off so bad she could spit.

“Alright, Guerin,” she drawls, “Time to impress me.” And flicks open the button on her jeans.

His hands are there immediately to tug them down and her underwear with them; he only gets them to her knees before he’s trying to squirm between her legs and she has to kick one leg out herself to give him the room he needs to work. She hooks it around his back, digs her heel in just above his ass, and feels him shiver under that careless, callous touch. She snatches him by the hair again to hold him still, only centimeters from where she’s already starting to ache from the promise of that eager mouth, just to rub her thigh against his cheek and feel the scrape and burn of his stubble, the contrast of smooth skin just above it. He huffs a surprised little breath, a puff of cool air against her heated skin, and he leans into it. She can feel him grin.

The first touch of his mouth is so _hot_ it lights up half the nerve endings in her body. Her leg locks in tighter around him; she leans her weight back on her hands, tips her chin up, closes her eyes to just soak in the sensation as he parts her, laps gently, building up pressure and rhythm.

He pulls away for just a second, and her head snaps down to look at him.

“You with me, Cameron, or have I blown your mind already?” He says, and she just rolls her eyes, grabs his hair, and jerks him back in.

With him back in his place, she says, “Act fucking cocky again and see what happens, yeah?”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nearly purrs, and puts himself right back to work.

This time, she isn’t shy about taking what they both want, doesn’t give him the time and space to think he’s running this show. She sets the pace, and he rolls with every buck of her hips grinding against his face; his tongue moves with firm, steady strokes, and every now and then he moans all throaty and deep and the buzz of it has her back arching harder. He keeps his hands to himself; when she looks down at him from on high he’s kneading his own thighs, fists opening and closing in unconscious, needy little motions, and the surge of power she gets from seeing it, from seeing him being so fucking _good_ just like that, almost makes her come before she’s gotten her fill of fucking his face.

“ _Fuck,_ that’s it,” she says, and her own hands fly down to grip his head, steady him, ground him, “So fucking good, Guerin—”

His next moan is louder, and he _melts_ against her like he hadn’t already, tongue pulsing into her, laving in deep and heavy, and he sucks at her when his tongue pulls back. And then he moves up to suck on her clit instead, stroke it with just the tip of his tongue, that point of hot pressure where she’s most sensitive. The sensation has her thrusting _hard_ against it. Her foot is still planted against his back, and she can feel the gentle motion of his own hips as he shifts, seeking relief, cock trapped behind his jeans but not a single complaint to be found inside his talented mouth.

Savagely, she wants to pull him back, leave herself on edge, keep him here, this pliant controllable thing, with his doe eyes and how _polite_ he is when he’s got something to keep that fucking _mouth_ busy.

That thought sends her over the edge as much as anything else, and she rides out a shuddering orgasm against the firm lapping of Guerin’s tongue, and he keeps going all the way until she stops him, panting and too sensitive, hauls him back by the hair, and she’s never been much for talking during sex, and it’s a good thing because she has no words for the blissed-out look on his face right then. She runs a long finger through a smear of slick right by his berry lips, collects it, and feeds it to him all the way to the opening of his throat. He doesn’t gag. He leans into it like he wants more and cleans it off her hand like he’s starving.

“Okay,” she says, the second she’s got her breath back. “Consider me impressed.”

Her words make him grin, and he still looks a little like the devil when he does it, but he can’t hide the red-cheeked red-mouthed exertion or the floating pleasure all over his face, so she slides backwards, pats the bed, and says “Up.”

He follows orders, and it’s no hardship at all to let him stay a few hours, letting them both go as many times as they please.

**Author's Note:**

> of Course this would be the thing that manages to crawl out from the wreckage of my writers block


End file.
